Cold Outside, Hot Inside

Once that task was complete, I was once again at a loss. Cuthbold disappeared back into the mass of humanity and I wandered off.

I really could have done with a drink at that point. I was all charged up on adrenaline and endorphins and whatever else my body generates in the pressure of a beautiful woman. I was jittery. My thoughts were distracted. I felt good. Warm. Alcohol would have smoothed the impeding crash but, even having succeeded in our goal, I wasn't going to push my luck. I wasn't that mentally gone. Why spoil things now?

I wandered about idly, passing past workmates that displayed an incredibly impressive ability to not recognize me. Which was not the worst thing in the world really, talking to some of them might well have been a more painful way to spend the time.

How long do you spend at a party? I'd done my bit, as it were, and there didn't appear to be anything else left for me to accomplish. If I left within the first half-hour of arriving, is that rude? Or within an hour? If I were good friends with the hosts it might be different but this was only a polite work invitation so what was acceptable? While it could be argued that the money was promised, until Cuthbold had the check in the bank, there was no reason to believe that their decision couldn't be reversed. Best behavior was still called for until this was done.

The nice thing about this mansion was that there was room to wander and think and distract yourself with the decorations, minimal as they may be. The down side is another of those 'is this polite?' questions. When one is wandering about on the fringes of a party, at what point are you intruding on your hosts' hospitality? In a smaller house it's easier I think; you stay out of their bedrooms and storage spaces and areas like that unless otherwise directed. There was so much room to ramble here that it blurred the line. I have no clue what was in the rooms I passed and I would never have slipped inside them to check. That would have been rude. As I could still hear party related voices, the halls seemed fair enough game. Yet, I was alone.

“Ah, there you are.” The realization that I was not alone, coupled with the concern that I might be intruding made me jump, drawing a chimed laugh from Ms. Romero. “I did not intend to frighten you my dear.”

I fell back on familiar territory for me; I began to babble nervously. “Frighten? Not really, just, sort of, surprised a bit, I'm sorry, I'm not intruding, am I?”

Her smile held a laugh in it. “Not at all. You are very welcome in my home. Admiring the painting?”

“Trying to decipher it,” I admitted. “I don't understand abstract art.”

She drew nearer. I could feel a warmth from her grow as she got closer. “You have a very analytical brain perhaps? As a computer person, your brain is filled with zeros and ones. Art is too... free for you to grasp?”

“I think I get some art,” I noted defensively.

“Landscapes? Portraits?” She gave me the 'silly boy' shake of the head. “They are art, true, but this, this is undiluted emotion! Passion! Does that elude you?”

“It looks like a five year olds fingerprints to me. Not that it's not attractive to look at, I just can't see that side of it. Perhaps you are right and my brain is just not tuned to that frequency.”

Things happened very suddenly. I found myself pressed up against the wall by Ms. Romero who, somehow, seemed to have glued herself to every part of my person. It was so unexpected that I had no opportunity to resist. “I should very much like to adjust your frequency Patrick,” purred in my ear.

“Ms. Romero!” I exclaimed while also trying to not be too loud and draw attention to us. “What are you doing?”

She breathed in my ear. “My dear Patrick, it is not obvious?”

I squirmed in an attempt to free myself. “No, no, this wouldn't be right.” I consider marriage to be a rather Serious Thing and the last thing I wanted to do at this point would be to offend Dr. Castillo by being seen with his wife affixed to me. There was some panic on my part.

The breath on my ear was hot. “Are you trying to say that I don't attract you?” She found a way to make more contract with my personage. “I know for a fact that I do.”

I jumped again and squeaked loudly, managing to free myself as well as accidentally draw attention to ourselves. As a curious face poked around the corner to see what was going on, I scurried away. I quickly found my coat and departed, not wanting to spend the rest of the evening playing cat and mouse with her.